ClownFellas (17 page)

Pinky Smiles was shell-shocked as he walked away from Taffy's apartment building. He didn't know where he was going; he just walked, staggering like a zombie down the sidewalk. Hobo clowns and laughy-gas peddlers tried to get his attention, but the half clown didn't even notice them. It was as if his whole world were crumbling around him. It was the only time he'd ever lost the smile on his face.

Taffy had cheated on him, and with Hats Rizzo of all people. But the part that devastated him most was how quickly she'd turned her back on him. She wouldn't even listen to his side. She treated him like a piece of trash.

But he didn't love her any less for how she reacted. In fact, he kind of loved her more. If Pinky actually was a rat that's exactly how he'd want the love of his life to respond. It showed she had loyalty. An enemy of the Bozo Family was an enemy of hers, no matter who they were, no matter what they had done in the past. That was exactly the kind of clown Pinky wanted to marry.

“Of course she would think I was lying…” Pinky smiled. “Who would ever admit to being a rat?”

He knew he just had to prove his innocence and get the hit called off, and then everything would go back to normal. If only he had more time.

After a few blocks, Pinky snapped out of his head and noticed a brown car trailing behind at a leisurely pace. Somebody was following him. When he looked back, the car stopped. He couldn't see the two men in the front seats, but they were clearly watching him. He could tell they weren't clowns.

“Do you want something?” Pinky called out to them.

The car rumbled in response.

He crossed the street in front of them and went in another direction, taking a side street behind the fish market. The car followed him.

“Hello?” Pinky asked, but his pursuers didn't respond.

After another block, the car pulled up alongside him and the two vanilla men looked out the passenger-side window.

“Pinky Smiles?” asked a man with a blond buzz cut.

“Yeah?” Pinky said.

“We're with the FBI,” he said, showing him a badge. “Get in.”

They opened the back door for him.

“Am I under arrest or something?” Pinky asked.

“We're here to help you out,” said the man in the driver's seat.

Pinky recognized the man driving the car. No one but Manny Malone had that smug condescending smile and forty-year-old-frat-boy fashion sense. The bastard had been trying to take down Don Bozo for the past five years. Pinky didn't want to be seen anywhere near the son of a bitch.

“No thanks,” Pinky said and continued on his way.

The cops drove alongside him, matching his pace.

“Get in,” Manny said. “We need to talk.”

Pinky stopped walking. He looked around to see if anyone was watching.

“About what?” Pinky asked.

“Just get in.”

Pinky scanned the street again. Then he got inside. The second he closed the door, they sped off.

“Did you get one of these this morning?” said Agent Buzzcut. He handed him a photocopy of a black joker card.

Pinky took the paper and nodded.

“Then you know what that means, right?” Manny asked.

“Yeah,” Pinky said.

Manny turned into a parking garage to get off the street. It was mostly empty, only a few cars on the first level.

“It means a hit man who goes by the name Mr. Pogo is after you,” Manny said. “And you've got less than twenty-four hours to live.”

“But it doesn't have to be that way,” said Agent Buzzcut. “We can protect you from Pogo if you cooperate with us.”

“How can you protect me from Pogo?” Pinky asked. “That's supposed to be impossible.”

Manny Malone smirked as he pulled into a parking spot. “They say he's never lost a target. They say he'll find you no matter where you hide. They say he knows black magic. But do you know how he's
really
able to do what he does?”

Pinky shrugged.

Agent Buzzcut said, “We've autopsied several of Mr. Pogo's victims. In each case, the bodies had tracking devices planted on them. That's how he's
always
able to win the game of cat and mouse that he plays with his targets.”

“He never planted a tracking device on me,” Pinky said.

Agent Buzzcut turned around, “Show us your hands.”

Pinky gave him his right hand.

“See, right here.” Buzzcut pointed at a black mark on Pinky's index finger.

“Isn't that just ink?” Pinky asked.

Buzzcut shook his head. “When you accepted the black joker card from Mr. Pogo's courier, the device was injected into your bloodstream.”

Pinky touched the mark on his finger. There didn't seem to be anything under the skin. “I don't remember feeling a prick or anything.”

“The device is so small it's almost microscopic and moves through the bloodstream. It could be anywhere in your body. Getting it removed is not easy, but we have the means. If you work with us we can get it out of you and take you to a place where Mr. Pogo will never be able to track you down.”

“What would I have to do?” Pinky asked.

“We want information that will lead to the arrest of Don Bozo,” Manny said. “And to testify, if necessary. If you can help us, we can help you.”

“I don't know who you think I am,” Pinky said. “But I don't have any information like that. I've only met Don Bozo once.”

“Our sources tell us differently,” said Buzzcut. “You've been seen at your boss's residence on numerous occasions, as well as at several gatherings thrown by the Bozo Family's second in command, Jojo Bozo.”

“But I only attended those as Taffy Bozo's boyfriend,” Pinky said. “I wasn't even introduced to anyone important at those events.”

“Think carefully, Mr. Smiles,” Manny said. “If you can't help us then we can't help you.”

Pinky knew plenty more than he was letting on, but he wasn't about to give up anything to the cops—especially not when one of them was Manny Malone. The only reason he always put the screws to the Bozo Family was on account of him being on the French clown payroll. And they'd pay a hefty sum if he could put their competition behind bars.

But still, it was possible that these cops were the only thing that could save him from Mr. Pogo. He had to decide between death and betraying everything that he stood for.

After a moment of thinking about it, Pinky said, “I'm sorry, I don't have anything. I'm just Taffy Bozo's boyfriend. That's all.”

“Then there's nothing we can do to protect you,” Manny said.

Pinky opened the door and stepped out. Then he looked through the passenger-side window at Manny Malone.

“I'd rather die a clown than live as a rat.”

Pinky knew what he had to do next. He had to try to get the tracking device removed without the help of the feds. But he had no idea who he could turn to. He thought about contacting Captain Spotty, but if his old mentor suspected him of being a rat then he might kill Pinky himself. He thought about asking his mother, but she wouldn't know the first thing about removing such a thing. He didn't want to go to a hospital. If he went to a doctor's office telling them he had a tracking device swimming through his bloodstream, they'd probably send him to the funny farm.

There was only one option he could think of. Although the man wasn't a real doctor, Earl Berryman—the Bozo Family veterinarian—could possibly help him out. Since Earl had little communication with members of the Bozo Family, he likely wouldn't refuse assisting Pinky on account of him being a rat. Unfortunately, being only a veterinarian, the chance of him removing such a device was pretty slim. But Pinky didn't have a whole lot of options.

When Pinky arrived at Earl's apartment, he didn't expect Vinnie Blue Nose to be the one to answer the door. The capo was in horrible shape. His clothes were filthy and covered in bloodstains. His nose and lips were cracked. Scabs had formed on the red and white parts of his skin.

“Mr. Blue Nose?” Pinky asked.

At first, he thought Vinnie was there to whack him. As his capo, it would have been Vinnie's responsibility to make sure Pinky got what was coming to him. But nobody knew Pinky was going to Earl Berryman's place, so it had to be a coincidence. The capo had to be there for some other reason.

“Hey, Smiles, how's it been?” Vinnie opened the door all the way to let him inside. “Did Spotty send you?”

Pinky stepped into the apartment. “No, but he's been looking for you. Is the vet around?”

“He's with Jimmy,” Vinnie said.

Pinky Smiles looked around, not knowing where to sit. The place was covered in blood, and whichever surfaces weren't covered in blood were used to hold houses of cards. Vinnie had built ten small card towers around the room, most likely out of nervousness, giving himself something to do while waiting to hear about his friend's condition.

“What happened here?” Pinky asked.

Vinnie shrugged. “Jimmy and I got into a scrape. This is mostly his blood.”

Pinky looked at him with a concerned face. Even though he was in danger, he was more worried about Taffy's cousin than himself. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He'll be fine,” Vinnie said.

But Pinky still wanted to know every detail of what happened, just in case he could help in some way.

Vinnie said, “It's a long story. Forget about it.”

Pinky nodded.

“So why are you here?” Vinnie asked.

“To see the doctor,” Pinky said. “I mean the
vet.
I need his help.”

“You know, a real doctor would probably be more effective than the vet. You want me to drive you to a hospital?”

Pinky shook his head.

“Why not?”

Pinky didn't want to give him too many details. He was a dead clown if Vinnie suspected him of being a rat.

“I just want him to take a look at something,” Pinky said.

Vinnie pointed to the hallway. “He's in the master bedroom. Why don't you let him know you're here.”

Pinky nodded.

Then Vinnie went for Earl's phone. “I'm going to check in with the boss. He's going to be pissed when he hears about what happened last night.”

As Vinnie entered the phone number, Pinky turned and walked down the hallway with every muscle in his body tightened. If Blue Nose didn't already know about the hit on Pinky's life, he was going to after that phone call with the boss. He wasn't sure what to do.

Before he entered the master bedroom, Pinky saw a window at the end of the hallway that led to a fire escape. He paused for a moment, debating whether to enter the room or flee out the window.

In the next room, he thought he heard Vinnie say, “Yeah, Pinky's here with me now. Why?”

And with that, Pinky's panic made the choice for him. He crawled out the window and went down the fire escape.

Pinky had to find another way to remove the tracking device. There was only a small chance Earl could have possibly helped him, and he didn't know any other people in the medical profession. It was possible that he knew people who knew people who could help him, but there weren't many people he could trust at that moment.

Then an idea: His mother could help after all. She knew doctors. They came to the Rainbow Gardens all the time. Some were clients; others came to give checkups to the girls. If anyone could help remove the tracking device, she would know who.

When he called, he knew his mother would be worried about him but he had no idea she would be in such a frantic state.

“Pinky? What's going on? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

“There's Bozos all over this place looking for you,” said Miss Tina. “They say you're a rat.”

“I'm not a rat.”

“Well, they sure think you are for some reason. What did you do? Is there any reason they'd suspect you were working with the cops?”

“It's just a misunderstanding, Ma,” Pinky said. “I'll figure it out. But right now, I need your help.”

“You can't come here. You need to stay away.”

“But I don't know where else to go,” Pinky said.

“I can't help you, Pinky,” she said, her voice choking on her words. “They'll probably kill you if you come anywhere near me.”

Pinky paused and took a deep breath.

“Okay, I'll figure it out myself,” he said.

His mother was crying on the other end.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“Don't worry, Ma. I'll prove to them it's all a mistake.”

“Pinky…,” Miss Tina began, but she couldn't say anything else.

Pinky told his mother he loved her and then canceled the call. He hoped it wasn't the last conversation he'd ever have with his mother.

As Pinky put the phone back into his pocket it vibrated in his palm. He looked down to see that it was Spotty who was calling. He hesitated answering. There was no way of knowing if his mentor was still on his side.

Spotty had a serious tone in his voice when Pinky answered.

“Meet me at Pumpernickel's,” Spotty said.

“What's going on?” Pinky asked.

“Just meet me there. Make sure you're not followed.”

Then Spotty hung up. Pinky didn't like where this was headed, but he didn't have many options left. He had to have faith in his old friend.

Pumpernickel's was an antique bookshop run by a clown by the name of Sir Reginald Van Pumpernickel. The man was a fancy sort of clown who wore a three-piece suit straight out of the seventeenth century accessorized with a gold pocket watch, a cream-colored top hat, and tiny round-lens reading glasses that perched on the tip of his plump green nose.

“Smiles, my boy,” Pumpernickel said upon Pinky's arrival. “Come in, come in.”

The bookshop owner stepped down from a ladder, holding a stack of old leather-bound hardbacks. Pinky helped him carry the books to the front counter.

“It's always a pleasure to see you. How have you been?”

Pinky nodded. “I'm doing well. I haven't read the book you recommended to me last week. Things have been rather hectic lately.”

“Which book was that again?”

“The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“Ah, yes yes. One of my absolute favorites. You must make time to read it, my boy. It is one of the quintessential works.”

Pinky had to switch the topic immediately. Get Pumpernickel going on the topic of literature and he'd go on for hours.

“I'm meeting Spotty. Is he here?”

“In his office,” Pumpernickel said. “I believe he's waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” Pinky said and went toward the door in the back of the shop.

Despite his shabby appearance, Captain Spotty was a bit of a rare-book collector. He was also one of Pumpernickel's best customers. Many years back, when Spotty worked under Uncle Jojo, he was ordered to shake down some of the local businesses for protection money. When he came across Pumpernickel and his little antique bookshop, he knew the old guy wasn't getting enough business to even keep the place afloat, let alone pay a few points to the Bozo Family. So Spotty offered to pay Jojo the protection money himself in exchange for taking over the back storeroom to use as his office. The deal worked out well for old Pumpernickel, because Spotty soon developed a love for old books, being surrounded by them and all. The clownfella had ended up dumping a small fortune into his book collection over the years. Even Sir Reginald's personal collection was not quite as vast as Spotty's.

When Pinky Smiles entered his office, Spotty was flipping through a copy of
Don Quixote.
Pinky was very familiar with that book. Spotty rarely ever took it out of the case. It was far too valuable.

“Remember this book?” Spotty asked, holding up the old volume as cockroaches crawled across the cover.

Pinky nodded and closed the door behind him.

“This is the same book you tried to shoplift from this store ten years ago.
Don Quixote.
First complete English edition. A very valuable book.” Spotty snickered and shook his head. “You were so young back then.”

Pinky sat down in a chair next to his desk. “Yeah, I thought I would've gotten away with it, too. Pumpernickel had no idea I'd be able to pick the lock on the bookcase so quickly.”

“If I hadn't come out of my office right at that moment, you would've gotten away with it.”

“I would've brought it back,” Pinky said.

“Yeah, that's what you said at the time. Of course, I didn't believe you.” Spotty flipped through the pages, wearing special gloves to prevent his finger oils from damaging the pages. “I remember it like it was yesterday. You said you took it just because you wanted to read it. You had no idea how valuable it was.”

“I didn't know I could've gotten it from any library.”

“Right then, I knew there was something special about you. Not many kids your age were reading books, let alone going through so much trouble to steal one.”

“I just wanted to know what it was about. The way old Pumpernickel kept it locked up like a treasure, I thought it had to be a really good book. I had to read it.”

“I made you work off the offense in Pumpernickel's shop for the whole summer. But you did the work with pleasure, not complaining once—another trait that was rare in kids your age. And soon after that, I took you under my wing. I taught you everything you needed to know in this business. You were like a son to me.”

Then Spotty set the book on his desk. “I was going to give this to you either on your wedding day or on the day you got made, whichever came first. Then you'd finally get to read it after all these years.”

Spotty tapped his finger on the cover, staring his underling in the eyes. “Why'd you do it, kid? After all I've done for you, how could you betray me? I never thought you'd be the kind of clown to flip.”

Pinky then noticed the gun on Spotty's desk. It was obvious now that his mentor was planning to whack him.

“I figured it would be better if I did the job myself,” Spotty said. “Despite what you did, I can't let Mr. Pogo be the one to take you out.”

“You think I'm a rat, too?” Pinky asked.

“You say you aren't?”

“Of course I'm not,” Pinky said.

Spotty shook his head. “I wish I could believe you, but the boss said there's proof.”

“How? What proof?”

“It was Beano Moretti who hired Mr. Pogo, with the boss's blessing. He has a fed on his payroll who informed him of a rat in our organization.”

“And the fed said it was me?”

“He said it was the clown who was sleeping with the boss's niece. Taffy is the boss's niece and you're the only clown in the family dating her at the moment. So it's kind of obvious, isn't it?”

“No…” Pinky paused for a moment. He couldn't believe it. They had it all wrong. “I'm not the only one sleeping with Taffy.”

Pinky's eyes lit up. Spotty wondered if he was telling the truth.

“Then who is it?” Spotty asked.

“Just today I caught her in bed with another clown. She was with Hats.”

“Hats Rizzo?”

Pinky nodded.

Spotty thought about it for a minute, putting all the pieces together in his head. Then he ground his teeth and pounded his fist against the desk. “That no-good son of a bitch. It's just like that bastard to rat out his friends to save his own skin.”

“So you believe me now?” Pinky asked.

“Yeah, kid,” Spotty said. “I'm sorry I doubted you.”